This Heart Of Mine
by MessieJo
Summary: A little one-shot spoiler-y based fanfic...Deacon's always been the strong one...but what happens when fate deals him a card that no one was expecting?
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** Okay, so I know everyone by now has probably heard the spoiler going around about Deacon coming down with some horrible illness/disease later in the season—and for those that hadn't—I apologize profusely in advance—anyhow I know a lot of people have been writing on the subject, which is probably how this story got stuck in my head and just wouldn't let go—but this is my take on the version of events. I went with his heart being the issue, just because the guy's had his heart stomped on by Rayna all too figuratively lately, that it might as well be broken literally. Right now I have this set as a one-shot, though depending on what you guys think and whatever else my crazy mind comes up with, I may add to it later. (*HINT REVIEWWWW PLEASEEE!) I do want to add though that personally, I hope the writers DON'T go down this route with Deacon—the poor guy's already been dealt too many low blows as it is—he needs things to go HIS WAY for a change. But in the meantime, it gives us something to write about, so…have fun reading! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks! xoMESSIEJO**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING! RIGHTS AND CHARACTERS OF THE SHOW "NASHVILLE" ARE RESERVED AND BELONG TO ABC AND ITS AFFILIATES…NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED!**

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><p>Rayna was backstage in her dressing room getting ready for her performance later when she heard the commotion outside her door. Curious, she was about to go check it out when her phone started ringing. Crossing back to the vanity, she picked it up, smiling. "Hey sweet girl, you enjoying the show?"<p>

"Mom! Something's happened!" Maddie cried into the phone, her voice breaking as she broke into sobs.

Rayna's smile faded immediately as her maternal instinct kicked into full force. "Maddie? Sweetheart, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked, worriedly as she gripped the edge of the vanity until her knuckles turned white.

Teddy had suggested Maddie come out and spend a few days with Rayna on her tour, considering she hadn't been acting like herself in recent weeks. He'd figured a change of scenery might do Maddie some good and Rayna had agreed. Since she and Luke had decided to combine their tours, that meant Maddie would want to spend time with Deacon as well. Which is what she was doing right then, or so Rayna thought? She was supposed to be watching Deacon's show from backstage with the rest of the crew. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her that Deacon should still be doing his set, so she couldn't imagine what could have upset Maddie, as she so clearly was.

Maddie sobbed a couple more times, struggling to answer. "Deacon…its Deacon, Mom. He just—one minute he was fine and then he just collapsed. Mom, I'm so scared. Will you come, please?" Maddie begged.

Rayna was already grabbing her purse. She'd flung open the door and was already running down the tunnel before Maddie'd even finished her question. "I'm coming baby," she said into the phone.

* * *

><p><em>Oh please God, let him be alright<em>. She prayed as she ran, though the pit in her stomach told her that whatever it was, it wasn't good. Deacon was rarely sick. In all the years she'd known him, she'd only seen him get sick a handful of times…with the exception of his drinking. There was a time when she would have immediately assumed he'd slipped…but that was the farthest possible explanation from her mind right then. She knew better. She knew he'd changed. He was a different man now. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he was with Maddie…the way he'd held her in his arms the night he'd asked her to marry him and the next day when he'd all but pleaded with her to give them a second chance, to give their love a chance…and she'd turned him down by going to Luke's charity thing instead of his show that night at the Bluebird. Maddie had nearly been in tears the next day when she'd told her about the song she knew he'd written for her that Rayna hadn't been there to hear. Oh God, the song. _What if she never got the chance to hear him play her that song? _she wondered, an unfamiliar panic coursing through her at the thought, stealing her breath for a moment.

She pushed the thought away quickly as she came to the end of the tunnel leading to the stage and pushed her way through the small crowd of people that had gathered. She ran up the few steps to the stage and then froze. Everything else faded—the sounds of the crowd, the yelling of the crew, the blinding stage lights, all of it. Her focus zeroed in to the middle of the stage. There she saw Deacon, lying there, unmoving. Maddie knelt beside him, her face pale and tear-streaked, her eyes wide with fear and worry. That blonde woman she'd seen hanging around Deacon lately—what was her name, Pam-Sam—something like that—she was there, too. Rayna tried not to read too much into how worried the other woman looked…after all, this wasn't the time or place for her to be getting jealous. Not to mention, she didn't exactly have a right to be jealous. Deacon wasn't hers. She'd turned down his proposal. Even so, it grated her that that woman was just _there_. She couldn't explain why. Not rationally anyhow.

* * *

><p>"Mom!" Maddie's voice called to her, pulling her from her thoughts. Rayna started and rushed forward as Maddie ran towards her. Rayna caught her in her arms, holding her daughter close as she sobbed. As she comforted Maddie the best she could, she kept an eye on Deacon, who was being attended to by a pair of EMT's and an older man that she recognized as the tour physician. Within minutes they had him on a stretcher, with Maddie and Rayna following close behind as they carried him off the stage. They followed them out to the back private entrance where an ambulance was waiting, where they loaded Deacon inside. Maddie turned to Rayna, eyes wide and pleading. "I want to go with him," she insisted.<p>

Rayna hesitated, glancing at the ambulance and then at Maddie. "Honey, I don't think they'll allow—"

"But I'm his daughter!" Maddie cried. "I want to go with him. He sh-shouldn't be alone. What if—Mom, please, will you just ask them?" Maddie begged.

Rayna nodded and turned to one of the EMT's. "Excuse me…would it be possible for us to ride with him?" she asked the young paramedic.

The man glanced sympathetically between her and Maddie and shook his head. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but there's no room. You can meet us at the hospital though," he said, telling Rayna what Emergency Room they were taking him to before climbing in the back of the ambulance and closing the doors.

Rayna turned to Maddie and pulled her close. "It's okay. I'll call for a car and we'll go right to the hospital. He's going to be okay, sweetie. You'll see," she promised.

Maddie pulled away, shaking her head. "You don't know that. You don't—" her bottom lip trembled.

Rayna swallowed hard as she cupped Maddie's face in her hands. "Yes, I do…because Deacon's tough. It'd take a hell of a lot for him to leave you," she said, smiling. "He loves you so much, you know that, don't you?"

Maddie nodded, and a sob escaped her lips as she hugged Rayna again. "I'm really scared, Mom."

Rayna tightened her arms around her. "Me, too, sweetie. Me too," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Maddie's head. "But it's gonna be alright." _It has to be._

* * *

><p>It was nearly an hour after they arrived at the ER before they were even allowed back to see Deacon and by then, both Rayna and Maddie were going near-crazy with worry. All the nurses would tell them when Rayna asked was that he was being "checked out" and that she'd have to wait. And if there was one thing Rayna Jaymes did NOT do well, it was waiting. She hated waiting. Especially in hospitals, and especially when it involved important news concerning the man that had—in some aspect or another—been a huge part of her life for the past 25 some odd years.<p>

As the nurse showed her and Maddie to Deacon's room, she braced herself for whatever was about to happen. No amount of preparation could have prepared her for seeing Deacon lying there in that hospital bed though. Granted, he was conscious and alert and some of his color had returned, but he looked weak…tired. Though after the ordeal he'd had, she wasn't surprised. Collapsing in the middle of a show would do that to a person. She saw his eyes light up the moment he saw Maddie though and she bit back a smile as she watched Maddie run across the room and practically throw herself at Deacon. "Maddie—sweetie, go easy—" she reminded her, only to be cut off by a stern look from Deacon.

"She's fine, Ray," he said, his voice belaying more strength than he appeared to have.

She bit her lip, nodding as she slowly walked over to the bed, wringing her hands nervously together. She swallowed hard as she stopped by the foot of the bed, her gaze meeting his over Maddie's head. "So um, how are you feeling?" she asked softly after a minute.

He shrugged. "Tired. Must've worn myself out with all the performing." He smirked. "Guess I'm not as young as I used to be, huh?" he asked, his tone light.

She half-smiled. "What'd the doctor say?"

He shrugged again. "Oh you know, just to slow it down. Take it easy for a bit." He glanced down at Maddie and grinned. "To act my age. Ha," he added for her sake.

Rayna narrowed her eyes, searching his gaze…not believing him for a minute. She knew him too well…knew there was more than he was telling. "That's it?" she asked.

He gave her that hard, stubborn look of his that always annoyed the hell of her and nodded. "Yep. Just about. Nothing I can't handle, Ray." He looked away from her and looked down at Maddie. "Sorry if I freaked you out there, kiddo."

Maddie nodded. "It's okay…as long as you're alright. You're really okay?" she asked, eyeing him with uncertainty.

Deacon tapped her on the nose with his finger. "Don't you go worrying about me, darlin'. I'll be right as rain in a few days, you'll see."

Rayna rolled her eyes as she listened to him. She wasn't fooled. She knew him too well. Reaching into her purse, she grabbed a couple of bills and handed them over to Maddie. "Hey sweetie, think you can go find a vending machine and grab us a couple of waters?" she asked.

Maddie took the money, nodding. "Can I grab a snack, too? I'm kind of hungry," she said.

"Get whatever you want," Rayna told her, watching as she gave Deacon a quick hug and then walked out of the room. The second she was out of earshot, she turned to Deacon, hands on her hips. "Alright, give it to me straight. What'd the doctor really say?"

Deacon sighed. "Ray, just drop it," he said.

"I most definitely will NOT drop it, Deacon," she argued. "You collapsed in the middle of a show. That's serious. What is going on?"

He swore under his breath. "Look Rayna, I appreciate you bringing Maddie down here and all, and I'm sorry I screwed up your night and the show and godknows what else—but my medical business—isn't really any of your concern at this point," he said.

Her eyes flared. "The hell it's not!" She stepped closer to the bed. "This is me you're talking to, Deacon. We may have had our…_differences_ lately…but I still care about you. I can't just shut that off because you're pissed at me. God, Deacon—do you have any idea the hell I've been going through the past couple of hours not knowing what's been going on? Or what it was like having to see you just lying there like that?" Tears filled her eyes and slid down without warning, unchecked, before she could stop them. "Damn you, Deacon," she swore, turning her head away, embarrassed by her tears.

"Ah, hell don't cry Ray. C'mere," she heard him mutter under his breath and she felt his hand reach out and his fingers encircle her wrist, pulling her towards him so that she sat on the bed. Much as he'd done with Maddie minutes earlier, he wrapped her in his arms. And like Maddie, she clung to him, breathing in his scent that was so _him_. After a few minutes, she forced herself to leave the warmth of his arms and sit up.

"Deacon…what aren't you telling me?" she asked softly.

He sighed heavily. "It could be nothing, Ray…"

"Or it could be something. What?" she asked.

He swallowed hard, took a breath, and then slowly released it. "Acute Cardiomyopathy," he finally admitted.

Her eyes widened as she slowly processed the two words. "Wh-what is that? Is that like a heart attack—what does that mean?"

He shook his head. "It's not a heart attack. It's more like the lining of my heart muscle isn't as strong as it should be," he explained.

"Okay," she said slowly. "So what does that mean? They can fix it right? They can give you medications to make it stronger, can't they?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as panicked as she felt.

He took her hand, linking her fingers with his the way he always used to do when she'd start freaking out about something—for some reason it always seemed to calm her down—and smiled a little. "Ray, we don't even know if that's what it is yet. The doctor said I'd have to see a specialist to be sure."

She nodded. "Yeah, but it's treatable. Right?"

He hesitated. "There are medications, yes," he said, slowly. "But they just slow down the symptoms. Ideally…" he sighed.

"What?" she asked.

"Ideally…I'd be looking at a transplant. Which, considering my past and that fact that it was probably my bad habits that got me this way in the first place—well, let's just say I probably wouldn't be at the top of those pickings, babe," he said, giving her a sardonic smile.

She glared at him. "Don't even say that. Don't even—j-joke about it, Deacon. That's not funny. You're sober. You've _been_ sober. There's no reason why they'd keep you from being put on a transplant list if it comes to—" she stopped talking, the full weight of what they were talking about finally hitting her. Her face fell and she went really pale. "Oh God, it's really that serious?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He swore and shook his head. "No, Jesus, Ray. I told you—nothing's even confirmed yet. I have to see a specialist and they have to run all sorts of tests. We're a long ways from anything like that."

"Promise?" she asked. "Because I swear to God, Deacon Claybourne if you're just telling me what you think I want to hear I'll—" she bit her lip as she held back a sob and pressed her cheek against his chest once more, needing to hear the steady sound of his heartbeat, needing that closeness.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, sighing at the familiarity of just holding her in his arms again, even as short-lived as he knew it was going to be. "It's going to be fine, Ray. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," he said. _And he wasn't…not if he had anything to say about it._

* * *

><p>When his blood work and other labs had come back normal and the doctor was satisfied that the episode had been brought on by a combination of stress, dehydration and overexertion, he gave Deacon the release to go home—on the condition that he make an appointment to see a heart specialist within the next two weeks, take a break from the tour at least until he'd seen the specialist, and to take it easy for the next couple of days. Deacon would have agreed to anything to get out of that room. He hated hospitals, always had. And poor Maddie was practically falling over on her feet, she was so exhausted.<p>

Rayna took care of everything, as usual. She had a car waiting for them at the back entrance of the hospital once he was finally discharged that drove them back to the hotel. Luckily, the staff at the hotel was just as accommodating and let them in through the private back entrance to avoid the paparazzi camped out front. The three of them rode the elevator in silence to the penthouse floor, stepping out into Rayna's luxurious suite. Deacon had unsuccessfully tried to argue in the car on the way over that he was perfectly capable of sleeping in his original room on the 8th floor, but Maddie had batted those big brown eyes of hers and he'd caved instantly. So there he was there, standing in the penthouse, feeling awkward as hell. Maddie yawned and luckily, Rayna came to the rescue and spoke up. "Alright, I think it's time we all hit the sheets," she said. She put her hands on Maddie's shoulders. "You especially young lady," she said.

Maddie yawned again, nodding. She walked over to Deacon and hugged him. "'Night. I'm glad you're okay. Love ya," she said sleepily.

Deacon smiled as he hugged her back. "Love you, too. Sweet dreams, darlin'."

She turned back and gave Rayna and hug and said her good nights, then headed off down the hallway towards the bedrooms to turn in, leaving Rayna and Deacon alone with one another. "God, she's something else, isn't she?" Deacon said with a smile, shaking his head in awe.

Rayna smiled, nodding. "Yeah. She is. Most days I can't believe she's ours. That we actually made her. It's…unbelievable sometimes."

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know about that. It wasn't all bad, was it, Ray? I mean, we had some pretty good times for a long time there," he said, remembering.

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah…yeah, we did."

They were both silent for a long moment after that, neither really wanting to move or break the moment. Then Rayna yawned and Deacon laughed. "Looks like Maddie's not the only one that's dead on her feet. Go to bed, Ray. You look beat."

She sighed. "Me? You're the one that just got out of the hospital," she reminded him. "Come on, your room's on the way anyhow," she said, gesturing for him to follow as she started down the hall that Maddie had disappeared down. She stopped when she saw his look. "What?"

"Just how many bedrooms does this place have?" he asked.

She smirked. "It's called a suite. And it has four."

He couldn't contain his laughter. "Seriously Rayna? What the hell do you need with four bedrooms in a hotel room? There's only you and Maddie."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's private and it's roomy. I like it. And besides, you can't beat the view with a penthouse suite," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, hell. When did you become such a diva?"

"Oh shut up," she said with a grin as she continued down the hall, tossing a glance over her shoulder to make sure he was following her, which he was. She stopped at one of the doors and opened it, leading him inside. The room was huge, at least twice the twice of his standard one a few floors down. Sitting on the bed was his guitar and bags—because of course she'd taken the liberty of calling ahead and having someone bring his things up from his room. That was Rayna. Always thinking of everything. Always taking charge. God, if it wasn't annoying. And damn if it wasn't sexy as hell. He tried to ignore the second and focus on the first.

"You got my things, I see," he said as he followed her into the room.

She nodded. "Figured it'd save you a trip downstairs. And since you're going to be staying up here with us this week, there really was no point—"

He held up his hand, stopping her right there. "Whoa—what? I agreed to stay tonight, Ray. That's it. One night. And that was just to appease Maddie."

"Deacon, you heard the doctor. You need to rest and take it easy the next couple of days. It'll be a heck of a lot easier to make sure you do that up here," she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Rayna, I'm not your damn project or some bed-ridden invalid, for that matter. And in case you forgot, you have a tour to put on, remember?"

She bit her lip. "Yeah…about that…I cancelled Friday's show."

His eyes went wide. "You what?! Why in God's name did you go and do something like that?!" he demanded, looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

She sighed, wishing she hadn't brought it up. "Look, it's not that big of a deal. It's one show. I want to…be here, Deacon. I know you're too stubborn and proud to ask for help, but you've always been there for me, so it's my turn to be here for you."

He shook his head adamantly. "No. No way in hell. Call Bucky. Call the arena people, whoever the hell you have to—tell them the show's back on. You're not putting your life on hold for me, Rayna. Damn it, I didn't ask you to do that." He swore and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, worked up now.

She stalked over to him, not backing down for once. "I know you didn't ask me to. I did it because I want to. Because that's what people do for people they…_care_ about, Deacon. And you can piss and moan and throw a fit all you want, but I'm not calling anyone. The show is cancelled. It's done. I'm not changing my mind. Get over it," she said, hands on her hands and daring him to challenge her.

He glared at her. "Damn it, you're impossible, Rayna," he told her.

She smirked. "Back at ya," she said flippantly and turned away, heading for the door. She stopped in the doorway and looked back at him. "I'm next door if you need anything. Good night, Deacon." With that, she shut the door behind her, leaving him to stew with his fury and the silence.

* * *

><p>20 minutes later…<p>

After a quick shower and change of clothes—not to mention a good, long cry—Rayna went to check on Maddie. She wasn't surprised to find her still awake, writing in her notebook. She was a lot like Deacon. She ruminated on things. "Hey sweet girl," she said as she walked over to the bed. "Can't sleep?" Maddie shook her head. Rayna sighed and climbed onto the bed next to her. "Want to talk about it?" she asked softly. Maddie just shrugged. Rayna smiled and glanced at the notebook. "How 'bout you put that away," she suggested, sliding under the covers and holding her arm out while Maddie put the book on the nightstand and turned off the light. "C'mere baby," Rayna said and surprisingly, Maddie didn't hesitate before snuggling up against Rayna, much like she used to do when she was little. Rayna tucked the covers around and laid her chin on top of Maddie's, sighing softly. "You can talk to me, you know. About anything. I'm your Mama, that's what I'm here for," she told her.

Maddie nodded, snuggling up closer. After a minute, she finally released the breath she'd been holding. "I'm worried about Deacon," she admitted. "I know he said he was okay, but I just—I've never seen him like that, you know? It was…really scary."

Rayna nodded. She knew exactly what Maddie meant. "I know, baby."

She heard a sniffle and pulled back to look down at Maddie. "Maddie? Sweetheart, what is it?"

Maddie was biting her lip, her eyes filled with tears. "I just—you'd tell me—if it was something bad, right? 'Cause I mean, you and Daddy said Grandpa was fine too and then he just died…and if Deacon's sick I want to know. I'm not a baby. I can take it, I just—I just have to know if—" she closed her eyes as the tears fell, shaking her head.

Rayna's heart broke as she tightened her hold on her sweet girl. In some ways she was so grown up and then in others, she was still that innocent little girl that Rayna wished she could lock away and protect forever. She held her for a long while, murmuring words of comfort and humming softly to her like she used to do when she little. Eventually Maddie's cries faded and her breathing relaxed as she fell into a restful sleep. Carefully, Rayna eased her way out of the bed, tucking the covers back around Maddie before leaving the room. As she walked past Deacon's room, she saw the light coming from the door, telling her he was still awake. Against her better judgment, she raised her hand and knocked softly before turning the knob and walking inside.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Deacon said as Rayna walked made her way into the room, moving his guitar off his lap and laying it down on the bed next to him. "Everything alright?" he asked when she finally stepped into the light.<p>

She nodded, biting her lip…though her body language screamed that it wasn't. Then she sighed and her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Actually, no. I just came from Maddie's room. She cried herself to sleep. She's scared to death that's something going to happen to you and frankly…so am I," she confessed, tears brimming in her eyes.

He swore under his breath. "Damn it, Rayna, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even said anything," he said, wishing he hadn't caved under her tears and kept what the doctors had told him to his damn self. At least then she wouldn't be standing in front of him like she was, a worried, crying wreck. She'd be blissfully unaware and things would have gone on just as they'd been. Nothing would have changed. Which is how it should have been.

She came forward and sat down next to him on the bed. "Deacon—that's not—I'm glad you told me," she said. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone," she said, reaching for his hands.

He evaded her reach and stood up, running his hands through his hair. "Damn it, Ray…that's just it. That's exactly what I deserve. Whatever this is—I did it to myself. All the drinking all those years—it finally caught up to me. Granted, I thought it'd be my liver that'd kick first and not my heart, but hey, what did I know, right? Either way—I've only got myself to blame here. Which means it's on me. Not you, Rayna."

She stood up, her features filled with stone-cold defiance. "That's not up to you, Deacon."

"The hell it's not," he shot back. "I don't want your help, Rayna. I don't need it…or you," he said, adding that last bit to be deliberately cruel. It was the only way to get his point across. And if pushing her away saved her from having to be dragged into his mess, then so be it. He'd put her through enough hell. He wasn't going to put her through more on account of him.

She narrowed her eyes at him as she took a step towards him…and then another. "It's not going to work, Deacon. Your words don't scare me because I know you don't mean them. Just like I know you think that if you try hard enough to hurt me, I'll back off and leave you alone. Well—" she was practically nose-to-nose with him at that point "it's not going to work. I'm not going anywhere," she said.

They stared each other down for a good, full minute or so, neither backing down nor giving in. Finally, he took a step back, before he did something he knew one or both of them would end up regretting later and breathed a ragged sigh as he headed back over to the bed and sat down, picking his guitar back up and placing it back in his lap. She bit back a smile. Deacon backing down from a fight. That was one for the books. As she watched his finger strum lightly on the guitar strings, she remembered something from earlier in the night.

Biting her lip, she walked back to the bed. "Hey Deacon…will you do something for me?" she asked him.

He sighed. "What now, Ray?"

She hesitated. "Will you play that song you performed at the Bluebird that night?"

His gaze lifted to hers and he searched her eyes. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ray."

"Why not?" she asked. "You wrote it for me to hear, didn't you?"

He sighed. "Yeah, but you never came, remember? You chose the other guy."

She bit her lip. "It wasn't that simple, Deacon. You know that."

He lifted a brow. "Love never is, Ray. Isn't that kind of the point?"

She sighed. "Deacon, I do love you. I always have. I'm sure I always will. It just—"

"Isn't enough?" he supplied for her.

Her eyes flared. "That's not fair."

He scoffed at that. "Yeah. Well neither is having to watch the only woman you've ever loved be with another man for 14 years and then having to stand by and watch her get engaged to someone else. But we all have our crosses to bear," he said.

She glared at him. "Really Deacon—of all the times to do this, you want to do this now?"

He shrugged. "Hey, I was minding my own business. You came in here…"

She muttered something very unladylike under her breath and stood up. "Fine. You want to do this…let's do this. You keep talking about what's fair…well how about we talk about the fact that you _waited_ until the night Luke proposed to come to me with that ring and your proposal. That wasn't _fair_ at all. Damn it Deacon. Do you know how long I waited to hear those words from you? How badly I wanted to hear you say them?" she asked him. "All I ever wanted was to be your wife. For us to be a family. And then we had the accident and it was like—like history was repeating itself all over again and I felt like—like we were always going to be stuck in this vicious circle of repeating drama and hurt and grief. I just couldn't do it anymore. I needed time…and so did you. We both needed to heal. And we did that," she said, then sighed. "And then I found Luke. And you were with Megan. I thought we were both moving on. I thought that's what we both agreed to. What we both wanted."

Deacon swore. "I know, Rayna. I get it. I don't need a play by play. But damn it, I thought I had time. I didn't think you'd go and marry the guy in six months!"

"Time for what, Deacon? What were you waiting for?" she asked, exasperated.

"To process everything—to I don't know, make something of myself. Hell, Rayna, I had to at least prove that I was worth you giving me another chance!" he said, his voice strained. As soon as the words were out, he regretted them, realizing immediately that he'd been far too honest and told her far more than he'd ever intended to tell her. A man had his pride, after all…and he'd just laid his bare. He ran a hand over his face, feeling like his emotions had been stripped raw. He felt vulnerable and exposed…and it wasn't a good feeling. At all. It took him a minute, but he finally gathered what little dignity and humility he could muster and forced himself to turn and face her. The tears streaming down her face, the softness in her features, the stark pity he saw reflected in her eyes…it was nearly his undoing.

"Oh Babe…" she whispered, reaching for him.

He evaded her touch, stepping back as if her touch might burn him. "Don't Ray," he said, his voice sounding rough and gritty, even to him. "Save your pity. I don't want it," he said.

She shook her head. "I don't pity you, Deacon," she said softly. "If anything, it's shame…for whatever I did to make you think you weren't good enough…that you felt you had to prove _anything_ to me," she whispered brokenly. "Because you didn't. You don't."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me, Rayna? Of course I did. I destroyed so much and hurt so many people. You, most of all. I broke your heart in every way a man possibly could…when all you ever tried to do was help me. I wrecked you and all the dreams you had. I wrecked us. I destroyed the one chance we ever had at being a real family—at raising our little girl up together. Hell, I nearly killed you because I wasn't strong enough to beat my addictions. I'd say that I had a hell of a lot to prove," he said bitterly.

She shook her head. "You're wrong, Deacon. You _were_ strong enough and you _did_ beat them. You got sober by yourself—and stayed sober—for thirteen years. That says more about your strength and your character than you could possibly ever know. And yeah, you slipped. You did. But you also just had your whole world turned inside out…and that was on me. I should have told you about Maddie sooner. At the very least, it should have come from me. I owed you that much. If I had, maybe things would have gone much differently than they did. I don't know. All I do know is that I don't need you to prove to me that you've changed because I already know that you have. I've seen it, Deacon. I've seen it in the way you've been the past 14 years, the way you've struggled and fought to get to where you are. And I've seen it in the way you are with our daughter. You're an amazing father, Deacon and Maddie adores you. You're a good man, Deacon. Don't think for even a second that you're not," she told him firmly as she closed the distance between them and before he could react, leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

It was intended merely as a gentle, comforting kiss…but that rarely ever remained the case with the two of them. Later, neither would know who made the first move…but then again, neither would care. Her hands went up to thread through the hair at the nape of his neck as his cupped the back of her head, angling her mouth for better access as he deepened the kiss. One of them moaned, or both—she wasn't sure. Neither he was. In the back of her mind, she was telling herself that she was asking for trouble every second she let the kiss continue. She was an engaged woman for Chris sakes! And that man's ring was on one of the fingers currently sliding through Deacon's hair. It was wrong, so wrong. For so many reasons. But God help her, it felt right. So right.

When they broke for air many long moments later, Deacon set her back a ways from him. His breathing was labored…not unlike hers and he was shaking his head. "Shit. That—shouldn't have happened," he managed. "I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

She lifted a brow. "Why are you sorry? I kissed you," she said.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah…why'd you do that by the way?" he asked.

She bit her lip and shrugged. "I don't know…I just, felt like it," she said simply.

He grunted in response. "Yeah well, next time control your urges, would ya?" he asked. "You're engaged Rayna. Remember?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Of course I remember," she said.

"And yet you're going around kissing other men," he stated.

She muttered a curse under her breath. "Oh give it a rest, Deacon. You're not "other men". You're different."

"Different how?" he asked.

"Just…different," she said, turning away.

He swore, his hand reaching out and latching around her wrist, pulling her back and crushing her against his chest. "Not a chance, Ray. You started this. Finish it," he said through gritted teeth.

She lifted her gaze, meeting his, her blue eyes staring determinedly into his, unwaveringly. Finally, she blinked. "What do you want from me, Deacon?"

"The truth would be nice," he said gruffly.

Her bottom lip trembled and she bit down to stop it. "The truth…the truth is, I don't know what I want, Deacon. Or what I'm supposed to want. I love Luke—I do. He's a good man and he'll be a good husband. But—" she lowered her gaze.

"But what Rayna?" he asked, lifting her chin with his finger so she had no choice but to look at him.

Tears pooled in her eyes again and she couldn't have stopped them if she tried. Her heart was full—too full. Overflowing with words and emotions that she'd held back for so long. Things that she'd wanted, craved, but knew she couldn't have. "But I want you, too," she said, the words spilling out breathlessly. "It's like I can't get you…out of my system…or something. And I've tried. God, I've tried so damn hard. And I don't understand it, Deacon. All these years. It shouldn't be like this. It doesn't make any damn sense. And why the hell are you smiling?" she asked, hitting at his chest with her closed fist.

His hold on her loosened as his features softened. "Because you're trying to fight a battle that you're just never gonna win, Ray. Trust me, I've been there. And I'm smiling 'cause you're sexy as hell when you're frustrated," he said, smirking.

Her eyes flared, but whatever she was about to say never made it past her lips, for his mouth descended just then and captured hers, taking her on a sweet, sweet journey of slow surrender. When the kiss ended minutes later, neither made a move to break the embrace. Rather, Rayna reached up and linked her arms around Deacon's neck, burying her face in the curve there. She didn't speak and neither did he. Probably because neither knew what to say. One kiss didn't change everything…it wasn't a solution. There were decisions to be made. Big decisions. Lives would be changed. Hearts would be broken. People were going to be hurt. It wasn't something either of them wanted to worry about right then. For the moment, however brief it might be, they were together. Deacon was okay—relatively speaking—they'd finally talked after months of avoiding each other and sparing glances in each other's direction, and all was right with the world…for the moment. Tomorrow, they knew, would be another story. But that was tomorrow.

After a while, Deacon sighed and shifted his feet. "As much as I'd love to stand here all night like this with you, Ray. It's pretty late. Maybe we should turn in," he suggested.

She lifted her head, nodding as she stepped out of his arms, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately. She was pretty exhausted. It'd been a long day. Not to mention an emotional one, thanks to the latter half of it. She bit her lip as she glanced at the door and then at the bed, conflicted. The thought of sleeping alone in the bed next door suddenly seemed very unappealing. "Maybe I should just sleep in here, you know…in case you need anything or…something…" she said, her voice trailing.

He smirked. "Liar. You just want to sleep with me, Rayna Jaymes. Admit it," he said, teasing her.

She pursed her lips at him, then shrugged. "On second thought, you're on your own," she shot back and started towards the door. She barely made it two steps before he'd grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. She shrieked, then covered her mouth with her own hand, remembering Maddie. That was the last thing she needed—for Maddie to walk in on her and Deacon acting like complete idiots. She'd have questions for sure that neither she nor Deacon were quite ready to answer.

"Stay," he said, meeting her eyes as he righted her.

She bit her lip, nodding. "Just to sleep, right?"

He nodded in agreement and she was relieved. At least they were on the same page there. While it would be so easy to throw caution to the wind and act on their desires—which were so very apparent—they both knew it would just complicate things further, and she didn't want that—and clearly, neither did he. Knowing that, she was glad. "Just to sleep, Ray." He let her go and they headed towards the bed. After putting away his guitar and shutting off the light, he joined her in the bed, slipping under the covers. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached for her and she went into his arms, her head tucking into the curve of his shoulder, her leg slipping between his.

Unable to stop herself, her fingertip reached out and traced his jawline and the rough stubble there. She heard him sigh and reach up, closing his palm over her hand on his cheek. "_Rayna_…"

"I need you to promise me something, Deacon…" she whispered softly in the darkness.

"Anything, babe," was his simple reply.

"Promise me…that you're gonna be here to see our girl grow up. That you'll be there to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. And fight with me about spoiling our grandbabies. Even if it's not, I need you to tell me it's gonna be okay…" she pleaded with him, a sob catching in her throat as she thought of everything she—they—had to lose.

He swore and shifted so that he was propped on his elbow, leaning over her. He pushed her hair behind her ear, his hand cupping the side of her face as he looked down at her. "Ray…I'm not going anywhere," he told her before he leaning down and kissing her softly on the mouth. "Sleep, babe, I'm right here," he said as he settled back into his position again and she cuddled in closer to him, almost as if she couldn't get close enough.

He didn't know how much time passed before she eventually gave in and fell asleep, relaxing in his arms as her breathing evened out and the fingers that were clutching his t-shirt relaxed.

He watched her sleep for a long while, just staring at her…loving her…wondering not for the first time how he'd ever gotten so damn lucky to have found a woman like her. She was so damn beautiful, inside and out. And she was his.

They hadn't come to any terms or made any decisions, but he knew that she wasn't going to be walking down that aisle towards Luke Wheeler come December. He couldn't say _how_ he knew…he just _knew_. It was like she'd said. They were in each other's blood…part of one another's souls. Without the other, there would always be that missing piece. He knew it, and she did, too.

He knew it was only a matter of time before she accepted it. Admitted it. And when she did…he'd be there. Waiting. Come hell or high water, heart condition or not…_he wasn't going anywhere._


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note_**_: Okay, so I was going to leave it at the one-shot...but then I got to thinking...so this is actually the alternative version of the second part I wrote—it actually went a lot different than this with a LOT of that angst that I love writing up, but after reading your reviews and watching this past week's episode, I thought we ALL could use some good old fashioned Deacon and Rayna "pre-season 3, can be in the same room without some snarky "nice of you to come" comment" vibes, if you know what I mean. I swear, I don't know if it's just me, but this whole Rayna and Luke storyline is seriously making me depressed…makes me kind of think that maybe Deacon __**is**__ better off with Pam or anyone else really for all the back and forth these writers are doing with these two. I mean, true love is one thing, but __**come onnnnn**__. Give us something. Am I __**riightt**__? Okay, end rant. LOL. But anyhow, here's a little something for y'all that I hope you like! I wanted to keep this part light and fluffy…well mostly. There will be a part three and possibly four…and all that angst and drama will come back into play and we'll get to some more serious matters… Anyhow, BIG THANKS to all of you that have read and followed and favorited this story so far and especially to you lovely reviewers. I love reading your words of encouragement, I really do. They make my day! :) So thanks. Keep reading and reviewing!__** xoMESSIEJO**_

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing—rights and characters of Nashville belong to ABC and its affiliates. _**

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><p><em><strong>!WARNING: SOME SLIGHTLY SEXUALLY-THEMATIC MATERIAL AHEAD!<strong>_

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><p>Rayna awoke first, wrapped in Deacon's arms. Or rather—and she bit back a smile as she realized it—she was practically sprawled on top of him. Just as quickly, she was filled with guilt as she realized the poor guy couldn't have gotten much of a restful sleep with her sleeping on him like that…and the doctor had been very clear in his discharge orders the night before when he'd said that Deacon needed his rest. Cursing her needy subconscious self, she started to disentangle herself from him…only to feel herself being pulled in tighter against his chest as he tightened his arm around her. She heard him groan and stretch and she looked up, propping her chin on his t-shirt clad chest in time to meet his amused gaze as he looked down at her. "Goin' somewhere, Ray?" he asked, his voice still gritty with sleep.<p>

She nodded. "Yeah, back to my own bed so you can actually get some rest without me laying all over you," she said apologetically.

He stretched some more, shifting a little and shaking his head. "No need. I slept fine. Better than I have in months actually," he admitted. "Must be the bed," he said with a knowing smirk. "Gosh, these penthouse mattresses are like sleeping on clouds," he continued. "Now I get the appeal, Ray. Really…"

She laughed and smacked his chest lightly. "Oh shut up. Don't you dare insinuate that I'm a diva again, Deacon," she warned him.

He lifted a brow even as a full grin spread on his lips. "Pretty sure I just did."

Her eyes widened and he knew the war had been waged. Despite the fact that she really _was_ sprawled across him, he had the advantage of a good 60 or so pounds on her, so before she could think of something equally sneaky to do to him, he had her on her back and pinned beneath him, her tiny wrists manacled between his fingers, held high above her head on the pillow. "Comfortable now?" he asked, full smirk.

She glared at him, only incited by his smirk. "Take it back, Deacon."

He lifted a brow as he easily transferred both her wrists to one hand, shifted onto his side so he wasn't completely crushing her, and brushed one of her stray curls out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. He pursed his lips, contemplating the notion, then shook his head. "Nope. Admit it, Ray. You've gotten a little diva-ish over the years. Penthouse suites, big flashy rocks on your fingers, that imported bottled water you like so much…and I seem to recall a little moment during rehearsal when your monitors were just a tiny bit out of whack—" he was grinning.

"Oh—" Her jaw dropped into an "o". "Damn you, Deacon, that was like 3 years ago and they were brand new pieces of _crap_ that cost 2 grand thank you very much—and I was having a really shitty day…so that does _not_ count!" she argued, annoyed that he'd even remembered her little meltdown. She'd prided herself on not having moments like those, so on one of the rare moments that she had, it irked her that he'd remembered and brought it up now.

He chuckled. "Oh, it most definitely does, Ray…but that's okay…I still think you're sexy as hell—even when you're being a diva," he said.

"For heaven's sake, I am _not_ a div—_ahhh_" her sentence was interrupted when Deacon decided to lower his head and nuzzle the side of her neck that his fingers had cleverly exposed while she'd been talking. She felt his tongue slide against that sweet spot right behind her ear and then his teeth were nipping at the lobe, sending the most erotic little sensations coursing through her. He smiled with satisfaction as he trailed wet kisses along her neck to the hollow base of her throat, feeling her pulse quicken as he pressed a kiss there before he lifted his head to meet her half-closed eyes.

"Mornin' Ray," he whispered huskily as he leaned down so his nose rubbed hers, their breath intermingling.

"Morning," she whispered back shyly, tipping her chin up in anticipation. He took her mouth slowly in a sweet, intimate exploration that drew a moan from somewhere deep inside of her. They parted for air only to fuse together again, this time in a kiss that sent heat scorching through them both, burning them both from the inside out. He let go of her wrists and she wasted no time in winding her arms around his neck and sliding her fingers through his hair. With a groan, he ran his palm down the length of her side to her waist, slipping beneath the hem of her t-shirt in a desperate need to feel more of her. What had started out as a playful ribbing had turned into something far _more_. The next few minutes were a flurry of frenzied bodies and rustling sheets as they practically tore at each other's clothing in a desperate attempt to reacquaint themselves in the sweetest way they knew how. Ever the gentleman, Deacon gave her the chance to change her mind before the deed was actually consummated, but her ability to think rationally had gone out the window the moment his lips had touched hers. Though, truth be told, if she was being completely honest with herself, the time to turn back—so to speak—would have been the night before, _before_ she'd offered to share his room, and _before_ she'd slept the night, voluntarily and willingly, in his arms.

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><p>Afterwards, they lay sated, sprawled on their backs, breathing hard. As if by cue, they both turned their heads towards one another and started laughing. What was funny, who knew. Maybe it was the fact that they were two forty-something's totally getting down and frisky in a hotel room while their 15-year-old daughter slept next door…though it probably had more to do with the fact that they were getting frisky <em>despite<em> things being so damn complicated between them as it was already… or maybe it was simply just part of the frisky awkward afterglow… again, who knew. As the laughter subsided, Deacon swore, shifting onto his side to fix the tangle of sheets between them. "Damn Ray…" he managed with a groan even as he willed his lungs to expand more quickly than they wanted to just then, and maybe ease the tightness he was suddenly feeling in his chest. "You're gonna be the death of me…you know that?"

She glanced back over at him, the smile fading. "That's not even funny Deac—" her eyes went wide with fear as she sat straight up. "Oh God... Are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded even as he grimaced. Just as quickly as the tightness had come, it went. He relaxed and drew a normal breath, grateful that it didn't hurt that time when he did and forced an easy smile for Rayna's sake. She'd gone pale and her neatly manicured nails that were currently digging a death grip into his forearm right then were definitely going to leave a mark. "I'm fine, Ray. Just turned wrong, I guess." She stared at him, her expression disbelieving, as tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over. Her eyes went down to his chest and then back to his face and her bottom lip started to tremble. "Ah, hell, babe—come on, no tears—I swear, I'm fine," he reassured her even as he drew her back down and into his arms. After a few minutes or so of silence, she finally spoke.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked softly.

He laughed as he shifted her so he could look down and actually see her face. "Yes, I'm sure. I told you, it was just a spasm. Turned over wrong, it was nothing. You gotta relax, babe."

She glared at him. "Relax? You collapsed last night, Deacon. You might have a heart condition that may or may not require a heart transplant at some point in the future! And here we are, not even 10 hours out of the hospital, and we're going at it between the sheets like a couple of teenagers!"

"So, what's your point?" he asked, grinning.

"The point is, I'm pretty sure when your doctor said to rest and no strenuous activity for the next few days, he didn't mean to go and do what we just did," she said, blushing a deep crimson as he smirked at her. "Stop that, I'm being serious!" she said, slapping his arm. "You're supposed to be resting, Deacon. I never should have slept in here," she said, sitting up and holding the sheet to cover herself.

His expression instantly turned serious. "Regrets already, Rayna?" he asked, that wariness she recognized—and hated—all too well seeping in his voice.

She sighed. "What? No. God, of course not. I wanted _that_ to happen just as much as you did," she assured him, looking at him when she said so. "I did. I just…" she sighed and shook her head, looking away.

He sat up next to her. "You just what, Rayna?" he might have backed down the night before, but he wasn't backing down this time.

She swallowed hard as she stared at the hand in her lap. Her left hand. With the big flashy rock that Deacon thought made her look like a diva. Her eyes closed as the guilt crept slowly crept in. "Deacon, I'm still engaged. I made a commitment—"

"So break it, Ray," he said, without missing a beat. "Hell, after what we just did—I'd say that commitment is pretty much about shot all to hell at this point now anyhow, wouldn't you?" he asked, his voice on edge and for good reason. He was pissed. He'd given her the option to turn back, to keep things from going too far—for that very reason, to avoid the conversation and situation they were now faced with. Granted, it would have near-killed him to stop when he did, but he would have stopped. If that's what she'd wanted, he would have. And he wouldn't have held it against her. But she'd said yes. She'd pleaded with him to continue and he had, foolishly thinking that it meant she'd finally accepted what he'd known all along, which is that they were meant to be together, in every way. Heart, body, and soul. Clearly, he'd been wrong, if the way she was staring at that ring and then at him-like she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life-was any indication. Her bottom lip trembled, but he was past the point of being fazed by her tears right then. He was too damn angry, too hurt to even care.

"Deacon, I don't know what all of this means. Or what I want. I told you that last night," she cried, that pleading look in her eyes, almost as if she was helpless in what she was feeling. But she wasn't helpless. She was a grown woman with two choices. She could either marry a man that she'd already admitted would never fully have her heart, or she could take off that damn ring and give **_their_** love a chance to prove itself; something she should have done 15 years before when she was faced with a similar choice…and didn't. Because of that decision, he lost out on 13 years with his daughter and they'd lost out on 13 years that they could have had, as lovers, as friends, and as the family they were always meant to have, together.

But unlike 15 years ago, this time was different. _He_ was different. He wasn't the broken man he was then. He'd changed. He'd gotten sober for Rayna and stayed sober for 13 years, and then he'd gotten sober for himself and for his daughter. For Maddie. That was the difference. Because—he realized then—with or without Rayna, he still had Maddie. She was his family, and that wouldn't change. Whatever the doctors told him in the next few weeks about his heart and what he'd need to do to fix it—if he could—he'd do it. For Maddie. Because she needed him. But he wasn't going to spend the next 13 years waiting for Rayna to come to her senses. Truth be told, and he had no choice but to face the truth now, he didn't even know if he'd _have_ another 13 years. But if he was lucky and if by the grace of God he did have them, he sure as hell wasn't going to spend them pining after Rayna Jaymes, trying to convince her of what she should know by then that they were destined for. He'd fight for her, yes, and for their love, but if it came down to it and he had to pick his battles…for the first time in 25 years, he wasn't entirely certain Rayna Jaymes would be at the top of that list, should he have to choose.

Reeling from that realization, he moved from the bed and wordlessly, went to get dressed. He heard Rayna moving around behind him and when he'd finished and turned back, she'd pulled on the t-shirt and bottoms he'd carelessly discarded in his rush earlier to undress her and was sitting atop the covers, staring at him. Her wide-eyed, expectant expression was willing him to say something. Anything.

He sighed as he walked back over to the bed and peered down at her. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, Rayna. You're the one who has to live with the choice that you make. All I will say is that…" he shrugged. "I'm not gonna wait around forever," he said simply. He gestured towards the door. "I'm gonna go see if Maddie's up and wants to grab breakfast in the cafe downstairs. You do…whatever it is that you have to do, Ray," he said and then because he couldn't help himself—and depending on what she decided it could very well be the last time he had the chance to do so—he leaned down and gently kissed her. Parting, he gave her a resigned smile before turning and walking towards the door. "You always do…" he said softly on his way out.

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><p>Rayna waited until Deacon walked away and she heard the click as the door closed behind him before she let the tears fall. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth, her mouth that still felt the heat from the press of his kiss moments before. It'd been a light, gentle kiss, a far cry from the passionate ones they'd shared earlier that hour, but somehow just as intense. In this kiss she'd sensed a longing that hadn't been in his other kisses, a sadness that pierced her already so weary soul.<p>

She heard the sounds of muted conversation and laughter and shortly thereafter, the faintest sound of the suite doors being closed as Deacon and Maddie left, no doubt to get the breakfast he'd mentioned. Sobs tore through her at the sound, for she realized that everything she'd ever wanted was right within her reach—only it wasn't as simple as just reaching out and grasping it.

She loved Luke. She did. That _was_ real. But did she love him like she loved Deacon? Was she _in love_ with him like she was in love with Deacon? Because she was. In love with Deacon, that is. So much so that she thought her heart would burst with it. She hadn't even realized it herself until she'd seen him lying there on that stage the night before. She'd never felt so frozen with fear in her life than in that moment and then sitting in that waiting room at the hospital, not knowing. It was the not knowing that had gotten to her. She'd imagined the worst possible scenario and every time a nurse or doctor came into the room, she expected to hear the worst. And the whole time all she could think about was the last time they'd been together that afternoon in his living room, before his show at the Bluebird. How he'd pleaded with her to reconsider, insisted that they were in love with one another, but she'd refused to accept it. She'd resisted his words. Even his touch. When he'd brushed his lips against her knuckles and then the inside of her wrist, all her carefully constructed defenses had nearly shattered. Stubbornly, she'd held on to them, slipping away and out the door with a hastened apology on her lips, her tears still wet on her cheeks. She'd gone to Luke's charity event that night instead, knowing that her absence at his show would give Deacon his answer, knowing that she'd hurt him…and too much of a coward to turn his proposal down in person. She was afraid then that he'd see right through her. Just like he almost had in his living room. Just like he always could.

With Luke, there was no vulnerability…and she liked that, in the sense that she couldn't feel that way with Deacon. Deacon knew her, inside and out. There was no denying that. He could read her like a book. What she was feeling, _how_ she was feeling…God, he was so attuned to her, sometimes it was like he was a part of her. It was almost scary. No, in fact, in _was_ scary. It scared the hell out of her, the intensity of the connection they shared. And it'd always been that way. Right from the beginning. She'd hidden it away, locked it up all those years that she'd been married to Teddy, but it'd always been there, simmering beneath the surface. And Teddy had felt it. In the end, it had destroyed their marriage. Granted, his infidelity had had a part in that as well, but in large, it had been due to her relationship with Deacon. She'd known it and so had he. Deacon was always going to be there. No matter what. And that's why with Luke, it'd been so easy to move on. She'd thought he'd moved on as well, in the beginning, with Megan. He'd seemed happy, so she let herself start to feel again…for Luke. And she'd fallen in love with him.

But ever since last night, and finding out about Deacon's heart…God, she felt like _she_ was the one with the heart condition, because suddenly, she'd had to face the fact that Deacon might _not_ always be there, as she'd always just assumed he would be…because he always just had been. And imagining a reality without Deacon Claybourne in it—it terrified her like none other. She supposed that's why she'd knocked on his door after she'd slipped from Maddie's room…and why she suggested spending the night with him. She'd been so damn afraid of losing him, that she'd needed that closeness, to be near him—to know that he was there and that he wasn't going anywhere. And then this morning—she could have stopped it. But she didn't. She hadn't wanted to. She'd wanted him to make love to her. God, she'd _needed_ it, like she'd needed her next breath. And the guilt she'd felt afterwards, when she'd looked at the ring on her finger, it'd been from the realization that she'd never—not even once—felt that way with Luke. And God help her, she didn't know how to feel about that. Was she just supposed to throw away everything that she and Luke had created over the past six months together? The plans they had made for the future? Was she just supposed to break the man's heart and fall into Deacon's arms and not feel weighed down by the guilt of what she'd done to Luke? It wasn't a simple matter of choice. She was in love with two men. Two very, very different men. And she didn't, for the life of her, know which man, which was the _right_ man, that she was supposed to choose…


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Note_****:** _As promised, here's where we get into some of the more serious, heart, angst-y stuff with Part 3. I wasn't going to post this bit so soon on the heels of yesterday's update, but I just couldn't help myself after I'd finished editing. I'm not entirely sure, but I'm thinking there will be at least a couple more chapters in this, but we'll see where it takes me. Hope you all are enjoying the read! Please review, like I said, I love them reading them and they really do give me inspiration to keep going with the story! Thanks for all the new followers as well! You guys are absolutely incredible! xoMESSIEJO_

_**DISCLAIMER**__: I own nothing. Rights and characters of Nashville belong to ABC and its affiliates._

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><p><strong>Three Weeks Later… <strong>

Rayna swore under her breath as she rushed through the lobby of the private medical office, rushing up to the large mahogany desk, tapping her nails impatiently on the wood as she waited for the young blonde receptionist talking rapidly into her attached headset to actually acknowledge her standing there. When she heard the mention of manicures and realized the woman clearly wasn't on a business-related call, she cleared her throat loud enough for her to hear and lift her gaze. Rayna had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes when she saw the recognition light up in the girl's eyes, which were already going wide with that "star struck" gaze that Rayna recognized and knew all too well. The girl immediately tapped a button on the side of her headset, effectively ending the call, and leaned forward. "Rayna Jaymes er—um, Miss Jaymes! How can I—oh my gosh—you're Rayna Jaymes!" she exclaimed.

Rayna forced a polite smile, nodding. "Hi sweetie…um, Jacque…what a lovely name…" she said, reading the name tag on the girl's cropped blouse. "I'd really appreciate your help, actually. A friend of mine is having a procedure done today and I was supposed to be here with him, but my plane was delayed due to weather and—" she smiled. "Well, you know how crazy it can be with touring and all, and well, I was just wondering if it'd be possible to slip back and see him before it starts. If that would be alright, of course," she said, smiling brightly.

The girl was all too accommodating as she started nodding immediately. "Of course, I completely understand, Miss Jaymes. What's your friend's name?" she asked, her tone especially helpful.

Rayna breathed a silent sigh of relief. _Well, that was easier than I thought it'd be._ Sometimes it certainly helped to be Rayna Jaymes. "Deacon Claybourne."

* * *

><p>Within minutes, Rayna was being shown back to one of the pre-procedure rooms where she was told Deacon would be while he waited to be taken in for his procedure. According to the chatty Jacque, who clearly had never heard of HIPAA or patient privacy, the procedure itself would take about an hour, after which Deacon would be transferred into a recovery room, where he'd be observed for 1-2 hours while the anesthesia from the procedure wore off. Barring any complications, he could go home afterwards. Opening the door, Jacque led her into a room that looked a lot like a hospital room, only much more private. Perched on the end of the bed wearing nothing but a green and blue hospital gown with none other than his damn guitar in his lap, strumming on the strings, was Deacon. He looked up when he heard them enter.<p>

Jacque, ever-the-conversationalist, smiled brightly at Deacon, whose eyes were wide with a mixture of disbelief and apprehension, as he looked beyond Jacque to glare at Rayna. "Hi again, Mr. Claybourne. It's Jacque, we met at the front desk when you—" she shook her blonde head, giggling. "Oh never mind that. Miss Jaymes was running late so I thought I'd just show her back here myself and—"

Rayna turned and grinned at the younger woman, reaching out and grabbing her hands in hers. "I _really_ appreciate all your help, Jacque. Really. I'm sure you probably want to get back out there in case anyone comes in, though. Thank you again. In fact, why don't you write down your info on a card and I'll stop by on my way out and I'll send you over a little thank you from the label, you know, just for being so helpful and all today," she said, putting her hand on the girl's arm even as she led her back towards the door.

"Rayna—" she heard Deacon's warning tone and ignored it, still smiling at Jacque. "Thanks, sweetie." The younger woman left the room, all starry-eyed and bursting with excitement. Rayna had no doubt she was probably rushing back to that headset to call up whoever she'd been discussing manicures with and dish all about how she'd just met the "Rayna Jaymes". It was of no concern to Rayna, as she'd gotten what she'd wanted. Eyes narrowed, she turned and faced Deacon, hands on her hips, expression accusing.

"Did you _really_ think I wasn't going to find out about this?" she asked.

* * *

><p>Deacon swore as he set down his guitar on the bed next to him, clucking his tongue. "Nice work there with that receptionist, Rayna. Real smooth. How'd you get her to let you back here?" he asked, eyeing her warily.<p>

She shrugged. "She's a fan, apparently. I said a friend was having a procedure and I was running late. I simply asked if I could come and see you. And I may have given her the impression that you were expecting me," she said, smiling coyly.

He laughed bitterly. "Figures. Everyone's a Rayna Jaymes fan. So, let me guess. Scarlett?" he asked.

Rayna nodded as she walked towards him, dropping her purse on the table next to the bed. "Of course. She was worried because you wouldn't let her come with you. She assumed I'd be going with you. Imagine my surprise when she called me to express her concerns over the heart procedure I didn't even know you were having," she said, her words laced with anger and disbelief.

He sighed. "I didn't see any reason to bother you with it. As the lovely Jacque no doubt told you, it's just a coronary angiography to test for muscle deterioration. All they do is thread a catheter into a vessel and inject some dye. It's a fairly common test they do for heart problems, Rayna."

"Jacque was quite helpful, but no, actually I did my own research on my 4 hour flight from San Diego this morning," she said, her tone sarcastic. "Did you know that this "common test" as you call it, can have really serious complications, Deacon? Did you know that you could go into cardiac arrest, or even get a blood clot and have a stroke during it? Or did you even bother to ask before you just agreed to have it done?" she asked hotly. "Did you even do research on this doctor? I mean, is he the best there is? Have you spoken to other specialists? Scarlett says you won't even talk to her about it. And clearly you've decided to keep me completely in the dark…"

"Oh hell—hold up right there, Ray…you made your choice in that all your own. Don't put that on me," he said angrily.

Her eyes filled with unbridled fury. "Me? You just left, Deacon! You left the hotel, you left the tour, you went back to Nashville—you just left! Without a word to me, nothing! I had to find out about it from Luke, of all people."

He shrugged. "I told you I wasn't going to stick around and wait, Rayna."

"But two days, Deacon? What the hell kind of timeline is that?!" she asked, incredulous.

"Maddie was heading back, I was off the tour anyhow. There was no point in sticking around the hotel, Rayna. What was I supposed to do? Sit there in your big old penthouse suite and amuse myself all day while you were out mucking it up with Luke Wheeler for the press and cameras and then warm your bed at night while you made your mind up about still marrying the guy?" he demanded.

She blanched. "That's not fair, Deacon."

He swore. "Fair. That word again. Goddamn it, Rayna. We've been through this. What's fair and what's not fair. You know what's not fair? This. You showing up here and pretending you care—hell pretending we're something that we're not—_that's_ what's not fair, Ray," he pointed out.

Her eyes flashed as she stepped so close that she was within inches from him. "_Pretending_ I care? I do care, Deacon. God, how can you even say that? How can you—how can you even _think_ it? Do you think these past three weeks have been easy for me? That it hasn't taken everything in me just to say to hell with the tour and everything and just come back here to Nashville—knowing that the girls need me here—that _you_ need me? You were the one that told me I had to think about the tour and the label. So that's what I'm doing. Or trying to do anyhow. Do you know how difficult it is to focus on a tour when I'm worried sick about what's going on with you because you won't tell me? You won't even pick up my calls or text me back. Three weeks, Deacon! We made love and I told you I needed time and you just shut me out of your life for three weeks without so much as a see you later. I had to find out about this from Scarlett. _Scarlett_! It should have been you. It's one thing if you didn't want me here, that's fine…but you still should have told me about this. I had a right to know. After everything we've been through, I deserved at least a heads up about it," she cried, willing herself not to cry. She'd sworn on the plane that she would not cry. At least not in front of him. As it was, she'd cried enough tears over the past three weeks since he'd left to fill an ocean. She should have been all cried out. But damn him if she didn't feel those dry wells start to fill up.

He swore, not quite as immune to her tears and pain as he might as liked to have been right then. "Damn it, Rayna. I didn't tell you because it's _not_ a big deal, like I said. And I know you're busy with the tour so I didn't see the point in bothering you with it because I knew you'd insist on coming back here for it."

"Hell yes, you're damn right I would have," she said. "I told you that night you collapsed. I want to help you…you don't have to go through this alone. And this _is_ a big deal. God, this is your _heart, _Deacon_._ Anything can happen with these kinds of tests. Anything. You know, you hear about these things happening all the time. People go in for surgeries and tests and they don't—they don't-" she swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence. A single tear slid down her cheek and a sob caught in her throat.

He sighed as he reached out and caught her hand, linking his fingers with hers. It was a small gesture, but he couldn't just sit there and do absolutely nothing when she looked that miserable. "Ray, it'll be fine," he told her, softening his tone. "And I wouldn't be having this test if it wasn't completely necessary. This doctor is good. One of the best there is. He knows what he's doing. And I know you're scared and if we're being completely honest here-hell, so am I, Ray. I mean, I don't want to do any of this," he scoffed. "I hate hospitals and tests, you know that. But I need to know what I'm dealing with here. And you know, if we're lucky, maybe the tests will show that it's nothing. But I won't know until they go in there and find out what's really going on. And yes, there are risks…but there's risks to anything, Rayna. Not to mention, the risks of not doing anything and something else going wrong. I gotta do it, Ray. And I have to trust that the doctors know what they're doing. Can you understand that?" he asked her, rubbing the inside of her wrist with his thumb.

She bit her lip, nodding. "You're right, and I do understand, I just—I can't stand the thought of something happening…to you," she said, her eyes shimmering. "I know you think I'm this horrible person because I haven't made up my mind about…_things_ and you probably think that means I don't care about you—but that's not true, Deacon. I love you. I do. God, I love you so much that it actually hurts sometimes…" tears flowed down her cheeks as she stepped between his legs and slipped her fingers from his so that she could wrap both her arms around his neck, clinging to him.

Willing him not to pull away, she felt the sheen of relief when she felt his arms slip around her back and hold her tightly to him. She buried her face in the curve of his neck as the tears fell unheeded down, the weariness of the past three weeks seeping from her in a torrent of emotion that only the relief of being held in his arms could sustain. She felt him shudder a little and she realized in that moment that he was just as scared as she was, if not more so. It should have frightened her—Deacon being susceptible to weakness and actually showing it—but it only heightened her new resolve.

He was always her rock. Her go-to when things got hard. Whether it was the music or standing up to the label throughout her career, or with Lamar, or even with Teddy. He was always a foundation of strength when she'd needed it. And now it was her turn to be strong. For herself. For Maddie. But most of all, for him. Because whatever the outcome of today's test, he was going to need her, whether he wanted to admit it or not. _And_ whether he wanted her to be there or not, she _was_ going to be there. He could push her away and ignore her calls and shut her out, but she hadn't gotten to where she was in life by letting herself be cowed…by anyone. Least of all, Deacon.

She didn't have it all figured out, but she would…eventually. Somehow, she'd make it work. She had to. This was too important. In fact, if she let herself truly admit it, it was _everything_. That, in and of itself—though she wasn't sure _what_ it was exactly-had to mean something…


	4. Chapter 4

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Here's the next chapter! I wasn't going to write in a sick Deacon, but I just couldn't help it. I'm thinking there will be another chapter, maybe two. Hope you all like it and please review and let me know that you think! xoMESSIEJo_

_**DISCLAIMER: **__I don't own Nashville. Rights and characters are the property of ABC and its affiliates. _

* * *

><p><span><strong>!WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT. MATURE READERS ADVISED!<strong>

Nearly 2 1/2 Hours Later…

_What the hell is taking so long?_ Rayna wondered as she checked the clock on the wall in the private waiting room reserved for family members accompanying patients who were having out-patient procedures done for what must have been the thousandth time in the past hour and a half.

She and Deacon hadn't even had a chance to resume their conversation when a pair of nurses had walked in the room to get him for the procedure. She'd stepped out of his arms, albeit reluctantly, and he'd given her that trademark Deacon grin as he'd taken her hand and squeezed it, his silent way of reassuring her that everything would be fine. Shakily—hell, barely holding it together—she'd told him that she'd see him when he was out of the procedure and he'd just nodded as he'd stood to put away his guitar in its case. One of the nurses had stepped forward to take it from him, but she'd stepped forward instead, telling him that she'd take it. He'd smiled ruefully at her, making some joke about knowing how she was with guitars, but he'd handed it over. They'd shared a look, had one of their wordless conversations with their eyes, before he'd turned and gone to sit in the wheelchair that was apparently his method of transportation to the procedure room. Before she'd even had a chance to say anything else—and there was plenty she could and should have said—he was gone and she'd been left standing there with his guitar, her own heart already aching and her nerves wrecked with worry.

They'd said it would take an hour. Which, according to her calculations, they'd passed that mark over an hour before. Her eyes hurt from the constant checking and the horrible pattern of the wallpaper the clock sat upon. It was yellow with bright red flowers and she knew it was meant to be cheerful, but it reminded her of the original wallpaper that had papered many of the walls in Deacon's home in East Nashville when he'd first moved in some 20 odd years before. They'd still been together then and although Deacon had bought the cabin the year before, he'd said they needed a place in town. Both their careers had just taken off, she'd still been reeling from the sudden rise to fandom and superstar treatment afforded to her by her first CMA win, and in truth, she'd tired of living in the apartment downtown. She'd wanted something more permanent, she'd wanted to put down roots, she'd realized. With Deacon. So they'd gone house hunting. In just a day shy of a week of looking, she'd fallen kitchen-cabinets-over-hardwood-floors in love with the charm of the house and the neighborhood. In spite of the previous owners' horrific upholstery choices, and after only one walk-through, Deacon had agreed with her. The deed was drawn up, the papers signed that would later be revised when they split up and she married Teddy. The wallpaper had been one of the first things to go. As she looked again at the clock and its horrible counterpart, she wondered how anyone could find a pattern such as that or the one that had been in Deacon's house even remotely aesthetically appealing.

"You know, dear, staring at the thing won't make it go any faster," the smiling elderly woman sitting in the chair across from her, the only other occupant in the room, said, her voice breaking through Rayna's thoughts.

Rayna turned to find the older woman smiling at her, as one would might a child. "I'm sorry?" she asked politely, thinking momentarily that the statement might not have been meant for her. A quick glance confirmed that they were the only two people in the room.

The woman continued smiling. "The clock. You've must have looked at it at least a dozen times in the past half hour, at least," she said softly. "In my experience, these things happen at their own pace," she said. "You needn't worry. I'm sure whoever you're waiting for is doing just fine," she said, her expression so sincere that Rayna couldn't help but smile back at the woman.

She nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "I know. You're probably right. I just—I guess I'm just a little anxious," she admitted, nervously twisting Luke's engagement ring on her finger.

"Newlywed?" the woman asked, garnering Rayna's attention again.

She lifted her head. "Hmm?"

The woman made a nodding notion towards the ring with her head, still smiling. "Husband then? Is your husband having a procedure done today?" she asked.

_Husband_. Rayna immediately felt a warmth inside her as she associated the word in relation to Deacon. Oh, how many dreams had she had where she'd imagined marrying the man, of becoming his wife? Far too many to count over the years. When she'd been pregnant with Maddie, although she was already married to Teddy, she'd have the most vivid dreams of Deacon…she'd picture their wedding day, standing next to him, her belly round and pronounced with Maddie, his hand protectively against the small of her back as the minister spoke those timeless words that bound them together legally, in the eyes of God and the rest of the world. She'd blamed it on the pregnancy hormones, the vividness of those dreams. Especially when after she'd had Maddie, they eventually faded…only to eventually be replaced by dreams of a different variety altogether when she hired Deacon on as her lead guitarist and band leader when Maddie was about 6 months old.

Staring at the ring that suddenly felt like a weight around her finger, a sadness crept into her, displacing that warmth, and she lifted her head, shaking her head at the woman. "No, no he's not my husband," she answered softly.

"Your fiancé then?" asked the woman.

Rayna swallowed hard, forcing the polite smile as she shook her head again. "A-A dear friend," she answered sadly, the words sounding wrong, even to her.

The woman eyed her quizzically for a moment, then smiled sympathetically at her. "Are you sure about that dear?" she asked, a knowledge in her eyes that Rayna somehow sensed could only come from having lived as many years as she had.

Her eyes widened as she looked at the woman and was about to ask her what she meant by her question when a nurse came to the door, calling her name. "Miss Jaymes?"

Rayna immediately stood up at the sound of her name. "Yes?" she asked the nurse, the anxiety over Deacon's procedure returning.

The nurse smiled. "Mr. Claybourne is resting in his recovery suite. Would you like to go and see him?" she asked.

She nodded, relief coursing through her as she turned back to grab her purse and Deacon's guitar. "It's as I said dear, everything works out the way that it's supposed to. Sometimes it just takes time. You shouldn't fight it. You take care now and good luck with your young man, dear," the old woman spoke softly to Rayna as she walked past.

Rayna stopped for a moment and stared at her, dumbfounded _What do you say to something like that_? she wondered. "I—um, thank you?" she conveniently left out the _I think _part, though the woman had already turned away and resumed looking at the television show she'd been watching. Rayna continued staring for a moment, the woman's words shaking her to her core. Why couldn't she shake the feeling of just having her soul laid bare and analyzed by a complete stranger? The nurse waiting for her reminded her of Deacon and she shook off the woman's words, hurrying forward.

As the nurse led her down the hallway towards the recovery suites, Rayna asked her if everything had gone well with the procedure. The nurse hesitated and then quickly recovered, smiling as she stopped at what Rayna assumed was Deacon's room. She opened the door and led her in. Deacon was already there, resting upright in the bed. His eyes opened groggily when they entered and she felt awash with relief when she saw him smile a little at the sight of her. "Hey Ray," he whispered, his voice scratchy-sounding. Her question forgotten, she set the guitar and her purse in a chair by the door and moved forward to the bed, smiling brightly.

"Hey," she whispered back as she reached his side, taking his hand immediately in hers and interlacing their fingers together.

The nurse came over to stand next to her, smiling at them both. "He's going to be a little out of it for a bit while the anesthesia wears off so don't be surprised if says anything weird or if he nods off here and there," she told Rayna, even as Deacon's eyes started to droop again. "We'll be in every 20 minutes or so to check his vitals and the doctor will be in as well to speak with him once he's more clear-headed. If you need anything, just press that call button on the bed right there," she said, pointing towards a small button on the railing of the bed.

Rayna thanked her and waited until she left before sitting down on the side of the bed, leaning towards him. "Hey," she said again, her eyes filling with tears.

He made a little groaning sound as he opened his eyes a fraction to look at her. "MH, kinda tired here, babe," he said.

She laughed, nodding. "I know, I just—I'm really glad you're okay," she said, biting her lip as a tear fell down. They were happy, relieved tears.

He rolled his eyes and groaned again. "Damn woman…always crying. You know I hate your tears," he said sleepily. "Always get me…" he said, his voice trailing off as his eyes closed wearily.

She laughed, wiping at her face. "Yeah, I know," she whispered. She stayed where she was for a few minutes, content to just watch him sleep, then moved to the comfy-looking recliner-like chair that was positioned next to the bed for visitors. Slipping out of her heels, she sat down, tucking her feet under her and turning so her cheek was pressed against the back of the chair, giving her a full view of Deacon. As she listened to the slow, steady beeping of the monitors, she thought about the clock in the waiting room and about the old woman there and what she'd said. At some point shortly thereafter she dozed off, dreaming about yellow wallpaper, little old ladies with knowing eyes, and Deacon in a groom's tux.

* * *

><p>She awoke with a start some forty minutes later when the nurse came in to check Deacon's vitals. "Sorry Miss Jaymes. I didn't mean to wake you," the young woman apologized as she passed her to leave, after taking note of the monitor that was recording Deacon's blood pressure and heart rate.<p>

"It's not you. She's just a light sleeper," Deacon's voice said from the bed and Rayna looked past the nurse to Deacon, who was sitting up and looking far more awake and alert than he had when she'd last seen him. She smiled and immediately unfolded herself from the chair to go to his side by the bed.

"Hey, you're up. Why didn't you wake me?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You looked like you could use the sleep. I'm guessing you had to take a pretty early flight to get here when you did," he said. "Besides, you were mumbling some pretty interesting things so I thought I'd listen for a while and see what Rayna Jaymes secrets I could decode," he said, his tone teasing.

She grimaced. "Oh god, I wasn't really, was I?" she asked.

He grinned, nodding. "Yeah. Something about wallpaper and tuxes. Like I said, it was just getting interesting…" he said.

She groaned. "Ugh. It was this weird lady in the waiting room earlier…" her voice trailed off as she realized there were far more important things to discuss. Such as how he was feeling. "Never mind. So, how are you feeling?" she asked, taking his hand that didn't have an IV in it.

He shrugged. "You know, groggy, sore. Nothing unusual," he said, for her benefit. He glanced behind her at the nurse who was still writing in Deacon's chart at the end of the bed. "So when do you think I can get out of here, Nurse?" he asked and Rayna had to hold back a laugh. Typical Deacon, already trying to leave.

The nurse smiled. "We're going to observe you for another hour or so, just until the full effects of the anesthesia wear off," she said. "And the doctor will be in to discuss the procedure and the results." She glanced at Rayna, hesitating, clearly considering her next words before looking back at Deacon. "By law, we're required to let you know that there was a slight complication during the procedure…you had a reaction to the anesthesia and your blood pressure fell quite low," she explained, "making it difficult to thread the catheter. "t's not necessarily uncommon, but it did delay things quite a bit…" she must have seen the horror in Rayna's expression because she hastened to continue "but…the good news is that the procedure itself went without any complications," she said. She patted Deacon's feet under the blankets at the end of the bed. "Like I said, the doctor will be in soon and he'll talk more in detail to you both about everything," she said, nodding to both Deacon and Rayna before quickly leaving the room.

Rayna's eyes immediately went to Deacon's and he saw the outrage in them. "Ray…" he started.

She muttered something under her breath that he didn't quite catch. "That little—I knew something was wrong. It went over an hour and a half longer than it was supposed to and I knew…I can't believe they didn't say anything. And I asked her when she brought me in if everything went okay and she just acted like it went fine…"

He squeezed her hand. "Rayna," he said, effectively cutting her off. "Stop, alright. You heard her…it just delayed things. The test went fine. That's all that matters, right?"

She stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Are you kidding me, Deacon? You had a reaction and your blood pressure dropped! I'd say that's a pretty major detail that you don't just throw out in casual conversation to a patient. I mean, seriously? Is this her first day on the job? _But the good news is…_" she said, mocking the woman. "Come on, what kind of medical professional just—" she stopped when she saw that he was grinning. "Seriously Deacon? You think this is funny?"

He sobered, but there was a trace of laughter in his eyes. "No…no, of course not. It's just…you look like you're about to go have that woman fired, Ray…and I know you were all bent that something was going to go wrong before the test and now you're all riled up, but she was just doing her job by telling me what happened. Granted, she probably could have done it with a little more finesse than she did, but when you've got Rayna Jaymes staring you down, I can see how someone in her position might be a little intimidated," he said, chuckling a little.

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. "I was _not_ intimidating her," she said evenly.

He smiled in spite of himself. "Ray, you were practically shooting her daggers the moment she said 'complication'," he argued. "But hey, she left, it's done. Nothing we can do about it now. Let's just wait until the doctor comes in and talk about it with him, okay? Ray?" he said her name slowly as he gave her that lifted brow look of warning that she knew well.

She harrumphed. "Fine," she agreed, crossing her arms to make it clear that although she'd let the subject drop for the time being, she still wasn't pleased. And that she knew he was trying to distract her and it wasn't going to work. _Or would it?_

He sighed as he took in her frustrated stance and then shifted in the bed. "Hey, c'mere," he said, patting the empty space next to him in the bed.

She shook her head. "Deacon, you just had the test—and what if the nurse comes back in?"

He pointed at his right arm where there was a large bandage covering a good portion of the upper half of it. "They put the catheter through my arm, Ray on this side, so you're fine. And besides, do you really care what that nurse thinks right now?" he asked, smirking, knowing he'd gotten her with that.

She hesitated a moment, then shook her head no in answer to his question, smiling as she uncrossed her arms and moved to curl up next to him in the bed, leaning against the opposite side that he'd had the catheterization done. She crossed her legs over his blanketed ones and tucked her hand into his, spreading her fingers so he could lace them with his, and then sighed as she relaxed against him. Neither said anything for a few minutes and then Rayna could take it no longer. "Deacon, I'm scared," she confessed.

He took a deep breath, then released it with a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling. "I know, Ray…" He didn't say it, but then, he didn't have to. She already knew. He was scared, too.

* * *

><p><em>Too slow to roll, put your life on hold<em>

_An open path, with nowhere to go_

_You start to wonder, while sitting at a red light_

_You can run a red light, give up at a red light_

_You break the mold, when running through the tolls_

_Speeding through your whole life_

_A chance to breathe, while sitting at a red light_

_You look around, reflecting on your life_

_A chance to think, am I drinking too much?_

_Should I keep going, lose a life that I love?_

_A second glance when coming to a red light_

_When things look low_

_You've gotta keep strong_

_Feet on the grass, you've gotta walk it off_

_The bows been tied too tight to laugh_

_Feet on the ground, you've gotta walk it off_

_You sing a song while you're sitting a red light_

The lyrics to the Johnny Lang song came to mind as Rayna sat at a railroad crossing, waiting for the train to pass, having just dropped Deacon off at his house after leaving the doctors. She'd wanted to stay, but he'd asked her to leave, his voice soft and desperate in a way she'd never heard it before, and she'd known he'd needed time to process everything that the doctor had told him. After telling him that she would stop by later, she'd left. Truth be told, she'd needed time as well to process the news herself, and to scream, hell even to cry…she honestly didn't know what to do first. She felt numb as she replayed the conversation with the doctor over and over again, the train cars passing slowly by in front of her, completely unaware.

* * *

><p><em>"It's as I suspected, Deacon, the test shows that there is a great deal of myocardium or muscle deterioration in the left and right ventricles of your heart. The technical term for it is dilated cardiomyopathy or DCM, but essentially what it means is that the heart muscle isn't able to contract as easily and as normally as it would and should, which causes the heart itself to become enlarged. This is what's been causing your bouts of breathlessness and the syncope episode you experienced a few weeks ago when you passed out on stage ," he explained. "My guess is it's from a number of combined factors… age can sometimes be a factor, but in your case, the family history of cardiac issues on your father's side leads me to suspect that this may well have started as a genetic condition that was most likely exacerbated by your history of alcohol and substance abuse. I'll want to run a genetic screen at some point, just to at least screen it out."<em>

_ "So what does all of this mean? What are we looking at here, Doc? Will I need a transplant, what?" Deacon had eventually asked once he'd gotten past the initial shock of the doctor's words._

_ "Well," the doctor began, "the good news is that the treatment and management of DCM has significantly improved in the past several decades. So it's not necessarily a death sentence," he'd said, no doubt for Rayna's benefit, as she'd stood there with tears streaming down her face, fearing the absolute worst as she'd absorbed the news. "Drug therapies have been shown to slow down the progression and in some cases, it's even improved the condition. So first things first, we'll want to get you started on a regimen of beta blockers and ACE inhibitors as soon as possible. We'll get you set up with an appointment before you leave today to discuss more in detail the different drug therapies and your options and of course, the condition itself. As far as a transplant goes, we're not even close to being near that point, Deacon, so let's just focus on working to slow the progression, and we'll cross that line when or __**if**__ we even come to it," he'd said encouragingly. _

* * *

><p>The drive to Deacon's had been one spent in complete silence, with neither of them really knowing what to say to the other. At one point she had reached over with her right hand and linked her fingers with his in an effort to show him that he wasn't alone in his pain. If she knew Deacon at all—and she knew him better than anyone—he was without a doubt, beating himself up over all of it and focusing only on what the doctor had said about his past dependency on alcohol being a mitigating factor—despite what the doctor had said about the condition likely having a genetic link.<p>

She'd wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, not to mention the incredibly awful timing. She knew better than anyone how hard Deacon had struggled over the years to overcome his problems and now, just when things were _finally_ going right for him with his solo career…and just when he'd found a new purpose in life as Maddie's dad…and now _this_. It just wasn't fair. He'd made mistakes, granted, but he'd worked so hard to overcome those mistakes in the past thirteen years. But some things changed. _He changed_. He wasn't the person he was then. The Deacon he was now-he didn't deserve this. Not to mention, after everything they'd been through, _they_ didn't deserve this. If anyone had earned a break, he had…they had.

As she watched the train pass, her thoughts turned to Maddie, and how she was going to react to the news. She and Deacon hadn't discussed it, but Maddie would have to be told. Knowing Deacon, he'd want to shield her as much as possible and initially, that would have been Rayna's reaction as well…were it not for for the conversation she'd had with Maddie the night of Deacon's collapse. She recalled the fear in Maddie's voice and her tears…and she'd made a valid point. She wasn't a baby, she was fifteen years old. She was old enough to be told the truth. And the hard fact of the matter was that she'd already spent thirteen years of her life not knowing that Deacon was her father. Keeping any more secrets from her now would only be seen as another betrayal to her and Rayna didn't want that. Not after all the progress the three of them had made in the past year. Right now—_especially_ now—they needed to focus on the future and going forward—not going back. Tomorrows, that's what they had, and while there was no guarantee how _many_ they had—they were going to make the most of them. _Together_. _Of that much, Rayna was now certain._

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><p>Rayna couldn't say that she'd been all that surprised when she'd shown up at Deacon's and learned from Scarlett that he'd packed a bag and gone to the cabin for a few days. No, she wasn't surprised. It was just like Deacon to take off and go running to the cabin for solace when things got hard instead of turning to the people who cared about hi. God, the man was too damn stubborn and proud for his own good. It was one of the things she loved about him. And ironically, one of things she hated. No, she wasn't surprised. But she <em>was<em> angry. After all, he'd known she was coming by and he'd deliberately taken off, most likely assuming that she'd just take the hint and leave him alone for a few days to process everything.

_Well_, she thought as she pulled up behind his truck at the cabin and parked, _he'd assumed wrong_. Switching off the engine, she got out, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and her keys into her front coat pocket, and slammed the door shut purposefully. He'd no doubt heard her come up the drive, but just in case he hadn't, she wanted him to know she was there…and that she wasn't happy. She'd no more than made her way up the steps to the porch when he opened the sliding glass doors and stepped out. He stared her down for a full minute from where they both stood, then shook his head. "You just can't take a hint, can you Rayna?" he asked and she heard the frustration in his voice.

_Good_, she thought, _let him be frustrated_. At least they were both on the same page, then. She narrowed her eyes in response to his glare. "Oh, I got it. Loud and clear," she said. "I chose to ignore it." She put her hands on her hips and told him matter-of-factly, "You can't do this, Deacon. You can't run away. Not from this," she said.

She saw the fury spark in his eyes and she was glad. At least he still had some fight left. Considering what he was faced with, he was going to need it. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it tightly. She saw him swallow hard and then shake his head. "I'm not doing this with you right now. Go home, Rayna," he said evenly, turning to go back inside.

She walked forward, following him and putting her foot over the threshold, just in case he had any ideas about closing the door in her face. She held her ground as he turned to face her. "I'm not going anywhere, Deacon."

He swore as he turned and stalked away from her, heading for the kitchen where he'd been in the midst of preparing a pot of coffee when she'd shown up. "Don't you have a fiancé to get back to or something?" he threw out over his shoulder, his tone scathing.

She rolled her eyes, deflecting the remark easily as she crossed into the cabin and closed the door behind her. Slipping off her jacket, she hung it on the back of a barstool by the door, making it clear that she had no intentions of going anywhere anytime soon. "There's a show tonight in San Diego. Sadie's covering my bit, then the tour's off for three days," she answered.

He shot her another glare as she made herself right at home, sitting down on the barstool and crossing first her leg over the other, and then her arms at her chest, her eyes watching his every move. "That's not what I asked," he said pointedly.

She shrugged. "I know." She didn't elaborate. She just sat back in the chair, getting comfortable.

He placed his palms on the counter top, glaring at her. "Damn it, Rayna, what the hell do you want?" he demanded.

"I want you to talk to me," she said quietly and simply.

"Well, there's nothing to talk about," he answered, just as simply.

She tipped her head at him. "Really? Because I'd say there's a hell of a lot for us to talk about. We have to discuss this, Deacon. We have to figure out what our next step is," she said.

He scoffed at her. "_We_? There's no "_we_" in this. It's just me. I told you at the hotel and I'll tell you again, I don't need anything from you, Rayna. And I sure as hell don't want anything."

She gave him a narrowed look. "Even so, I'm not going anywhere, Deacon. So we can do this back and forth for however long as you want, so long as you realize it and get it through that thick skull of yours. "_I'm not leaving_." She said the words with all the pure conviction that she felt. She meant it. She wasn't going anywhere.

He swore. "You don't get it, do you? Did you not hear what that doctor said today, Ray? I did this to myself. Me. I chose to drink for all those years. I brought this on myself. So I'll deal with it myself. I'll take the damn meds, I'll get on whatever list I have to get on, but I'll be damned if I drag anyone else into this with me, you especially."

She uncrossed her legs and stood up, walking towards him. "Damn it, Deacon, that's not your choice to make!" she cried.

"The hell it's not!" he said back with equal fervor.

She glared at him, hands on her hips. "What about Scarlett? Or even Maddie? Do you plan to just shut her out with the rest of us?"

At the mention of Maddie's name, the vein in his neck jumped and he swallowed hard, looking away. "Don't, Rayna," he said, his tone full of warning.

She didn't heed it. "Don't what? Don't mention the fact that we have a daughter who, like it or not, has to be told about this? Because we _are_ telling her, Deacon. I'll be damned if we're going to keep something like this from her. She has a right to know. She's your daughter. She loves you."

He swore, furious. "She's a child, Rayna. Do you really think she needs to know all the sordid details? Do you think she needs or wants, for that matter, to hear that I was a selfish bastard for years who didn't give a damn about anything or anyone except for where and when my next drink was going to be? Do you want to be the one to tell her that the real reason I never once guessed in those thirteen years that she could possibly have even been mine is because I was too drunk to even remember the night she was conceived?! Or that the moment she was born, I was off somewhere getting plastered? Do you really think she needs to hear all of that, Rayna? Because I don't."

She'd gone pale. "Deacon—"

"What, Ray? What the hell do you want from me? Better yet, why are you really even here?" he asked, his voice strained. "Because if it's about some misguided show of pity or god-forbid, guilt—let me tell you right now, I don't want it—either of them," he said. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me…because I sure as hell don't. I did this. _Me_. I'm not in denial. I'm not having some pity party for myself. I've accepted it. You might as well save yourself the time and do the same," he said.

Tears filled her eyes. "Deacon, you made mistakes. We both did—"

"Yeah, only difference is, mine are going to kill me," he said, seemingly resigned to the fact.

She swore and moved around the counter until she was standing in front of him. "Don't say that. Don't you even think it, because that's _not_ going to happen. You're not dying, Deacon. You can't act like you are or you're never going to get better," she said, reaching for him.

He evaded her. "Damn it, Rayna, I'm not going to get _better_. This isn't a damn cold. I did my research. Best case scenario, the meds give me a few years. With a transplant, maybe a few more. But eventually, this _will_ kill me," his voice trailing off as he absorbed his own words. "_Christ_," he swore, wanting to punch something but settling for slamming his fist down on the counter.

She just stood there, cold seeping into her as she shook her head, refusing to accept his words, refusing to accept that fate for him. "No," she said. "No," she repeated. "I refuse to believe that. I won't accept it and neither should you, Deacon. You have to fight. If not for yourself, then do it for Maddie. Damn it, do it for _me_," she said, her voice pleading as she stepped into his space and put her hands on both sides of his face, forcing him to look at her. "You can't give up, Deacon. I won't let you. We've come too far and gone through too much to just give up now," she said, her voice breaking. "Please babe…_please_," she begged him.

His eyes met and searched hers a moment before falling to her mouth. She heard him curse—whether he was cursing her or himself she wasn't sure—before his hands dove into her hair and he crushed his mouth down to hers. She felt it all in his kiss. The desperation, the fury, the fear…all the emotion she knew he was too damn proud and too scared to confess out loud to her. But she didn't care because for the first time that day since standing in that doctor's office and hearing those words, she didn't feel numb. She felt alive, more so than ever before. And she knew he felt it, too. It was too potent for him not to.

She didn't stop him when he grabbed her hips, pulling her towards him. Or when he slid his hand roughly down the front of her jeans, cupping her briefly before parting and invading her with his fingers. She rocked forward in rhythm to his knowing movements, his heel of his hand palm rubbing her _right there._ _Yes, God,_ she thought, _right there_. Her fingers were shaking as she undid the button of his jeans and slid the zipper down, freeing him to her hand, stroking his hard length.

She moaned in protest against his mouth when he removed his hand, though it was only long enough to push her jeans and panties down to her ankles, which she quickly stepped out of and kicked away, suddenly grateful in that moment that she'd had the foresight to leave her heels by the door when she'd come in.

The next thing she knew, he had her backed up against the wall by the counter and was lifting and entering her near simultaneously…stealing her breath in a gasp that was muted by own his groan of pleasure against her lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together as her inner muscles contracted around him, adjusting to the feel of him filling her so deeply, so completely. _God, it felt so right. _

The rest was a blur of sensation and pleasure. _So much pleasure, almost too much to bear._ She catapulted to her climax quickly, crying out, his name an echo on her lips as she threw her head back and dug her nails into the flesh beneath his t-shirt. Just as she was certain his fingers currently digging into her hips would leave a mark on her skin in the days to come, she was certain he'd be wearing hers. He climaxed not long after, his release so powerful that it sent another orgasm rippling through her, the near-pain/pleasure of which was so intense she could have sworn she saw stars. In fact, she was damn near certain that she did.

Boneless, they slid to the floor, their heavy breathing and panting breaths being the only sound either heard for the next few minutes. After she gradually floated back down to earth, and with her forehead resting against his, she pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. "This is _living_, Deacon," she breathed, her breath a whisper in the silence, before wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the curve of his neck, the tears falling of their own accord. She felt a breath shudder through him and then his arms were wrapping around her as well, hugging her tightly to him as his one hand slid to the back of her neck and his fingers gently kneaded the flesh there. They remained there, their bodies still joined as intimately as two people possibly could be, neither speaking nor feeling the need or wanting to move. Neither really knowing _what_ to say. And right then, no words were needed. They had each other, and in that moment, it was all that mattered. And it was enough. No, it was _everything_.

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><p><strong>SONG CREDIT:<strong>_ Song is called "Red light" by Jonny Lang. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** _Alright, here's the final chapter. I wasn't sure if I should end this here (and a little heads up: I just might add to this story if I get the inkling to) but I thought this would be a good place and hopefully a good way to tie up this story…short, sweet, poignant and to the point. Please review and let me know what you all think! And thanks again to everyone that's been following and reading and taking the time to review this fic, you guys are the absolute best! xoMESSIEJO_

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Rights and characters of the show "Nashville" are reserved for and belong to ABC and its affiliates. **

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><p>At some point, though Rayna wasn't entirely sure when it was exactly, they managed to separate themselves from one another long enough to get up from the kitchen floor and make their way into the bedroom where wordlessly, they divested themselves of the rest of their clothing that they hadn't bothered with removing in their haste to consummate their need for one another, and climb into the bed. There, they made love again. Though ultimately, the pleasure and connection was just as intense, this joining was far tenderer and less hurried than the previous one. Afterwards, they lay, sated and replete, in each other's arms, Rayna's palm resting on Deacon's chest, atop his heart. As blissful as it was to just lay there in the silence with him, Rayna's mind was in overdrive. As always.<p>

"Okay," Deacon said with a sigh, breaking the silence. "What are you thinking, Ray?" he asked her softly.

She sighed as she shifted closer, reveling in his warmth and how good her body felt to be pressed up against his. "That I never want to leave this bed," she whispered. "But I know that'll eventually I'll have to," she said, her brows furrowing at the thought.

He shifted himself so he could look down and see her. "To go back to the tour, you mean?" he asked her.

She nodded, her front teeth worrying her bottom lip. "And to face Luke," she added. "I'm going to end it, Deacon," she admitted softly. "He's a good man and I love him—I do, but being here, with you…it just feels right…in a way that it never has when I'm with him," she said. "I don't relish the thought of hurting him, and I hate that this is going to, but I can't marry him when I still feel the way I do about you. It wouldn't be right. He deserves someone who can give him her whole heart, and I'll never be able to do that. I was a fool to think that I ever could. This _thing_ that we have—this connection—it destroyed my marriage with Teddy. I can't do that again. It wouldn't be fair to Luke, or to the girls to put them through that…or to us," she confessed, wiping away the lone tear that fell down her cheek.

He took a breath and released it slowly. "So what are you saying, Ray?" he asked her.

She hesitated. "I don't…know what all this means for us…just yet," she said softly. "I know that I want to be with you and I want us to be together, but I want to take it slow. I know you gave me back my ring and you asked me a question…but I don't think I can answer it just yet. I'll wear it someday—I know it because I've dreamed of it for years and I have faith in us and in our love, but I…I just don't think now is the right time. Not on top of everything that's going on," she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why _not_ now, Ray?" he asked, that wariness she hated seeping into his voice a little.

She reached for his hand and linked their fingers together, willing him to listen and not shut down on her. "Because—because I want it to be right," she finally said, trying to find the right words. "I want you to ask me again when it's because _you_ want it, Deacon," she said. "Not because I've said yes to another man's proposal and you're scared of losing me and what we could be and have together. And I don't want to get married because of what we found out today and we're scared that we may not get the chance, Deacon. I want it to be about us—**just us**—and nothing else."

He sighed. "Ray, you know, I didn't just ask you to marry me because of Wheeler's proposal. I asked you because it _is_ what I want. You. Us. The girls. I want us to be family. A _real_ family. It's what I've always wanted, even before you went and married Teddy or said yes to Wheeler," he said.

She propped herself up on her side so that she could look at him fully, giving him a soft, endearing look. "I know you do…and so do I. But we _are_ a family, Deacon. Can't you see that? With or without a ring—the girls and I are still your family. We always have been. And we always will be. A piece of paper isn't going to change that, or make it any more beautiful and perfect than it already is. I love you, Deacon. I'm _in_ love with you. That's never going to change, whether I'm saying it as Rayna Jaymes or Rayna Claybourne. Can't that just be enough—at least for right now?" she asked, terrified as she searched his wary expression that it wouldn't be.

Finally—and much to her relief—he sighed, nodding. "For now," he agreed. "But I don't want to wait forever, Ray. And I know you don't want to hear it, but our _forever_ might not be as long as you thought it would be," he said.

Her eyes closed in response to the pain she felt as she absorbed the truth of his words. She shook her head slightly as she opened them again, full and shining with tears. "Please don't say things like that," she whispered.

He sighed. "Ray…it's the truth," he said, miserable for hurting her but also needing her to accept the reality of the situation they were now facing.

She shook her head again. "No. You don't know that, Deacon. You just…_don't_. You have to think positive…and focus on all the good things we have left to do together. There's _so_ much Deacon and I…I need you to believe that, too. We've gone through hell and back to get here. There has to be a reason for that. _There has to be._ Don't you believe that? I mean, did you think 25 years ago that we'd be here? Or even a year ago? Because I didn't. I lost faith in us—I did, and I'm not proud of that—and god knows, I almost ended up making another mistake by marrying Luke." She took a breath. "And there's been so much pain and hurt, but it's all—_finally_—behind us now. We have each other, Deacon. And Maddie, and Daphne. Nothing else matters. The rest is just numbers and the statistics don't mean a thing—we've already beaten the odds just by loving one another in spite of everything. We're proof that we're in charge of our destinies. Don't you see that, Deacon? Please tell me you believe that. Please…," she pleaded with him.

Right then, he wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to believe that she was right. Because the alternative was just too bleak—to miserably empty for him to even consider. He envied her ability to have hope above all odds, in spite of all the blows life had dealt her. She'd led a considerably privileged life it was true, but she'd also seen things…and it hadn't always been easy for her. She'd lost her mother early on, and he knew that growing up Lamar Wyatt's daughter had been more hell than heaven most days for her. She'd struggled and fought tooth and nail to get to where she'd gotten in the music industry—and he knew better than most how brutal the business could be and _was_ to her, at times. Starting out, few thought that she'd actually make it. The odds were against her. And here she was, 25 years later, still at the top of it all. A hell of a lot tougher, still just as stunning as ever… still believing that there was some good left in the world. It was a fanciful notion, but one he wanted more than anything to share with her. Giving in, he let himself. At least for right then. Reality could wait.

He nodded as he slipped his hands into her hair and pulled her towards him. "I believe you, Ray…And I want it, all of it…with you," he whispered, his mouth just inches from hers.

She smiled through her tears. "We'll have it, Deacon," she whispered. "Whatever it takes…God, I love you so much, Babe…" she said, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe it.

He grinned, lovingly at her. He knew it was true, he'd always known it. "I love you more, Ray," he said.

"Not. Even. Possible," she said, accentuating each word with a light kiss to his mouth.

His eyes flashed and before she knew what was coming, he'd shifted them so her body was beneath his. "Wanna bet?" he asked as their hands interlaced in the pillow above her head. His head lowered, his only intent for the next few hours being to prove that to her, until she was thoroughly and completely convinced of it.

Heart condition be damned.


End file.
